The Legend: Zeian
by freakkyeraGonfan
Summary: A girl lives in the time before Eragon. When she becomes the first female dragon rider, she learns of a legend, which she passes down to her children. This legend goes through generations, until a later generation hears of it and so begins another legend.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer**: I do not own the general idea of dragon riders and all the stuff Christopher Paolini made up. I do own my own characters but I don't want any $$$ off this. Just want

to have fun.

**Prologue**

The long procession of people moved slowly. There were hundreds of people in the market place, and she was just another face in the crowd. She was dressed as a young boy, not

rich, but not a urchin. Every man and boy in the city were in the market place today, all awaiting to have their turn. All wanting the same thing. It was a young boys dream, to be

chosen. And it was hers. She might not have been a boy, but she was just as determined to try to see if she was chosen. The line went on for hours, until finally, it was her turn. She

saw it now. They had said this one was special. It was silver. No other egg had been silver before. This one was different. The light from the setting sun glanced off the smooth

surface. She stared at it for a full minute before one of the guards said, "Hurry up, please."

Of course, they were in a hurry, but the egg had her full attention. She finally placed her finger on it's shell. This was the first dragon egg she had ever touched, but she felt the

energy running from it to her. Both of her hands covered it's shiny surface as she imagined the little creature inside.

"Listen, we have about twenty more people and then times up, could you please hurry it up?"

She barely heard the guard rushing her on, she had her eyes closed and her face gently pressed against the egg, listening for the slightest sound or the slightest movement.

"Ok, next."

That brought her back to her senses. She released the egg, returning to her normal self, feeling all the power draining back to where it had come. She turned to walk away when the

guard stopped her.

"You, you're a woman."

"Yes, I am," she replied steadily. "I wanted to see if I could be a dragon rider, is there something wrong with that?"

"No woman have ever been dragon riders and- ," the man was cut short. Behind him something started squeaking. The sound was coming from the egg.


	2. Chapter 1

_**Part 1**_

**Chapter 1**

"My daughter will not be seen running around like," he stopped flustered. "...like a little child! We are a civilized family. I shall lose all respect from the council if anyone sees you in

such a state."

"But father..."

"Don't 'but father' me. I will not listen to this any longer, my answer is no."

The door crashed closed behind him as he stomped out of the room. The girl sighed and settled onto the bed. Her long white dress laid on the bed beside her and her long sleeves

draped on her fingers. Her long brown hair was long and straight with a gentle wave pulling it back and forth. It fell in front of her face and she gracefully brushed it aside, revealing

two bright brown eyes clouded with disappointment.

_Of course father wouldn't let me. No 16 year old young woman except me would want to enter __it. It's silly to even have considered it. I might be the best shot in the _

_country, but I'm a woman, __so what does it matter. _

These thoughts were discouraging. Why was she even thinking them? She put aside all unhappy thoughts for the moment and quickly decided she would watch the tournament

anyway. Her father wouldn't like it, but he would let her. He let her do almost anything, except things that demanded his honor. That had always been a touchy subject for him.

Who knew why.

_All well. At least I will get to see the tournament and maybe even deliver the prize to a good __archer._

Her father had not established that tradition. Her brother had. His friend had always wanted to talk with her, so her brother arranged the tradition that she should give the prize to

the best archer. She was quite satisfied with the arrangement, for in this way, she was allowed to watch the archers compete. Her thoughts turned back to the matter at hand. Her

brother may have gotten her to the archery contest, but getting in it, well. That was a whole other matter. Her thoughts flitted from one idea to the next. Suddenly, all of them

stopped. They hovered over one idea, one that was sure to work. Except... No, that would work out too, so long as she didn't say anything it would be fine, and if she won it

wouldn't matter. She would win, she was sure. No man in the city could out do her shot. No one.

She gently eased the bow and quiver of arrows off the hook and slung them over her shoulder. Her bow was exquisitely made just to fit her. The thin strong string bent easier than

most and the bow was light and flexible. She could use any other bow, but this one, she preferred. She slipped her fingers around the brass door handle and quietly stepped out.

She walked a little ways from the house into a wide meadow, surrounded by a thick forest, crowded with tall pines and giant oaks. She placed two fingers to her lips and her shrill

whistle pierced the quiet meadow. A minute later, hoof beats echoed around her and a large black steed galloped toward it's master. It slowed and halted beside her.

"Hello Sarapheth. You look like you've been having fun. What have you been up to?"

The horse gave a snort and jerked its head up and down, prancing around as if to say it had had a lovely day so far. The girl smiled and placed her hands around her horse's neck,

pulling him close. They had always had a friendship, one that bonded them so closely that he always came at her calling. They had an understanding that connected them in a way

they couldn't understand. But they didn't need to. It was always there, and they took it for granted.

She spoke gently to the creature and stroked it's neck and then after several more moments of loving affection, the horse turned so it's side faced her. She climbed on, and they

were off, running with the wind under a warm spring sun.

Author's note: **Please read and review. Let me know how I'm doing! I need the advice of readers.**


	3. Chapter 2

**Author's note:** Sorry for the wait! Hope this is worth it. Please read and review!

**Chapter 2**

When she got fairly close to town, the girl climbed down from her horse and spoke gently to him, telling him when and where to meet her. She finished and gently patted him on the neck and he, in turn, gently pushed his muzzle into her hand.

Then, he backed away, turned, and trotted toward a clump of tall fruit trees, their blossoms full of color and beauty. The young girl watched as the hind legs and tail of her magnificent horse disappeared into the trees.

Wading through the tall stalks of grass, the girl soon topped a hill and sighted a fairly large city. The city from above was a beautiful sight. The outskirts of the city were small, and insignificant, but toward the inner city the houses grew larger as well as more decorative. In the heart of the city, the market and town square were located.

Although the tavern's names were not visible, she knew most of them. Closer to the main gate, there were many taverns, mostly for the common peoples. As the streets grew wider and closer to the market, the taverns grew larger and in better repair.

The entire city was surrounded by a tall stone wall, each of the four gates guarded by two watch towers, except the main gate, which was guarded by three. The young girl gave a last glance toward the city before stroding away, toward the city.

In the city, the girl easily found the place where she would be able to sign up for the archery contest. She stood behind an older man as she patiently waited.

_What name will I use?_

"Next!"

The girl cleared her throat and cautiously spoke, "I'd like to enter for the archery."

The man glared at her suspiciously before replying, "And what chance will a young county boy have amongst the finest archers in this and the surrounding cities?"

She blinked.

"I've only a small chance I suppose, but it's worth a try," the girl spoke cheerfully. "Won't you give me a sporting chance, sir?"

The man's grin surprised her.

"I like your spirit lad and hope your arrows fly far and straight."

She smiled, delighted at her good fortune. "Thank you sir." She turned to go, when his gruff, jovial voice stopped her.

"Well, if you'd like to enter, I'll need a name."

"Oh, umm...," she stuttered. Panic grabbed for control and she considered dashing into the crowd and abandoning the whole idea.

"Did you hear about the... Well, Vreon...," some old ladies gossiped behind her.

"Vreon, sir. Vreon Paleanrit."

"Enjoy your stay here Vreon. I'd suggest you stay at Sundown Tavern. One of our nicer, it is."

"I may try it."

With that, the girl wheeled around, breathed a sigh of relief, and joined the city crowds. The streets were lined with shops, temporary stalls, and taverns. Bright colors surrounded the streets, attempting to claim attention to the best clothing, pastries, weapons, tools, or animal skins.

Few stalls or shops caught her eye, but one did. This stall held swords. The man in the booth, noticing her interest, began to chatter on about the wonderful quality of each sword, how they were made by the best of the trade, and how old and ancient they were.

"How old are they?" the girl asked warily.

"This one here is the oldest, 2,000 years old. Long, long ago was this one made. And our price is very good, no? Look here, you see this..."

The sword was beautifully wrought, the blade was sharp and long and surprisingly light. Gold and silver entwined together on the handle and gave the sword a majestic and kingly look.

Several bright precious stones were embedded in the metal slightly above the handle. But what snatched the girl's attention, was something on the opposite side of the blade. Along the flat side of the sword, small markings were scratched into the weapon, words of a strange language.

Intrigued, the girl stared at the writing and asked the merchant, "What are these strange letters?"

"I'm not sure. They are certainly strange and mysterious, but they look quite fine on this great weapon."

"How much?"

The man gave his price and she hers, bartering until both were satisfied and content. The young girl left the stall with a large sword and a dark leather sheath about her waist and the merchant came away with what was, in his mind, a good profit.


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

"Vreon you said?"

The short bald man glared at her for a short moment. Then, his face lit up with a grin, an ugly grin, showing his dirty yellow teeth, several missing. She breathed and almost gagged on the stench of his breath.

It brought to her mind a flower she'd read about. It was a tropical flower, found in other countries, not in Alagaesia. It was large, sometimes growing up to 3 feet across, and beautiful, colored a deep red and speckled with black.

What was really odd about the flower, though, was it's smell. Most flowers smell sweet, filling your nostrils with some pleasant odor. This flower, however, smelled of rotting meat.

Thinking about this she really did gag, behind an open hand and with her head turned away. The man was quite oblivious to this and sat opposite her, gulping down a mouthful of smelly tavern beer. 'Vreon' composed herself and the man began conversing with her, much to the girl's dismay.

"I once knew a Vreon, older than you, middle-aged, I guess, and the way he could use his fists. A man, one time, he comed over to this tavern, you see, and his face was smeared with blood. I says to meself, he's been in a fight, but who would beat him up this bad?

"Well, the man, he said it was Vreon. 'Why?' me asks. 'I owed him a few coins that I didn't have.' I chuckled to meself, I thought the man had tried to murder Vreon the way he'd been beat.

"Anyhow, there was another time, everyone in town was all..."

_How **boring**. Please don't drone on all day._

She leaned back in the rickety chair as her mind busily explored the main room of the Sundown Tavern. Although she hadn't particularly wanted to stop at the tavern the man at the archery sign-up had suggested, there hadn't really been any better idea.

To risk lingering in the open streets was pure folly, someone was sure to recognize her. So she had resigned herself to quietly staying in this tavern, for the few hours before the contest.

The tavern was typical, dimly lit by lanterns hanging not very orderly every few yards. Wooden tables made roughly of hard wood were scattered underneath each of the hanging lights. Men sat at these tables or stood ordering food or drink at the slightly taller counter, near the entrance.

Puffs of smoke curled out of clay pipes which jutted out of several of the men's mouths. Others noisily munched or slurped food or drink, like the bald man seated across from the girl. Most of the men she didn't recognize.

_They must be here for the festival. Some of them look a little . . . well, rough. I hope my brother or one of his friends don't decide to visit this tavern. That would be just great!_

She closed her eyes and hoped they wouldn't come. Her brother was a bright likable eighteen-year-old. He was also mischievous and loved doing spontaneous things. Presently, however, he was in love.

_That's what he thinks. How many times this month has he been in love? I couldn't count it on my fingers. Funny boy, I love him dearly though._

She smiled then considered her thoughts. A boy? No, a man. Or nearly a man. He was tall, every inch of six feet two inches. Blond hair, which made him unlike the rest of the family.

Her mother's hair had been dark brown, her father's was a slightly lighter shade. They didn't know where his blonde hair had come from. Probably one of her father's parents since both had been unknown.

The minutes passed. Fifteen. Twenty-five. Forty-five.

Finally, the bald man had figured out that the girl had completely blocked anything he was saying. He got up in the middle of his story and his drink, and strode away, grumbling under his breath, something about lads getting more disrespectful as the years went on.

The girl didn't notice her annoyance had left for several minutes. When she did she was overjoyed. She leapt from her seat in such a hurry she upset her chair and the unfinished beer the bald man had left on the table.

Several heads turned and stares from curious on lookers made her blush. Nothing, however, came of this. All eyes returned to their former occupation and 'Vreon' gathered her belongings and made a quick escape.

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

'Vreon' pushed as gently as possible through the crowds. Making her way towards archery field, she asked a man there if she could practice shooting.

"Of course, what's your name?"

She told him and he pointed her toward a green clearing marked into lanes with about ten targets lined next to each other. Getting herself a lane, was actually a hard task. Many people stood about, just watching, perhaps deciding on a sure bet.

The young girl had to push past these onlookers and then wait behind several others who also wanted to put in some practice time. When she received a lane, she gently took her bow and held it at arms length, making sure it was in good condition and hadn't gotten bent while getting bumped to and fro.

The bow shone in the warm spring sun. In all the excitement, she hadn't noticed how beautiful the weather was. It was an unusually warm March day, the sun was in the middle of its cycle, almost directly over head.

There was no breeze, only a soft coolness. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply.

_People must think I'm odd. Or nervous. I wonder where Sarapheth is? Probably trying to find some friends to frolic with. _

"Hurry up lad. Some of us pros' need to get a few shots in before we compete."

The way the man stressed pros caused the girl to become furious.

"With hours of practice I know someone you couldn't beat," she retorted hotly.

The man's lips curved and a chuckle attempted to hold itself. "Oh, and who would that be, little man?"

"Myself."

The man couldn't hold on any longer, he burst into taunting laughter. Two others beside him roared with hysterics and all three continued like that for several minutes before the first man managed to get out, "Well, little man, why don't you show us how well you can do before we win the contest, aye?"

This was said between a series of laughter and hilarious grunts. So, now the girl was trying not to laugh. She forgot about the insult, and instead was thinking that these men were making fools of themselves, for many of the men were staring incredulously at the trio of laughing men.

"I say the best man wins," she replied jovially. "But watch if you'd like."

Turning away, she set an arrow to the string and firmly pulled her arm straight back, aiming steadily for the bright red center. Smoothly, she released the feathered arrow and watched it smoothly sail the full fifty paces and strike a perfect bulls eye.

She looked behind her at the three men. They looked astonished, but were trying not to show it.

_Men. Ugh!_

The young girl continued shooting until a bugle sounded. The contest had begun.

Author's Note: Ok, how was it? A little longer and i hope to make the next one even longer!


	5. Chapter 4

**_Author's note:_** Ok, I don't have much of an excuse this time! I'm so sorry all, but here it is, another chap! I've been sick and on vacation, had an awesome time canoeing down the spring river, had a nasty time having a wacky sore throat, mite have been strep or somthin. anywho here it is PLEASE R&R!

**Chapter 4**

The bugle sounded. A tall blond young man gathered his arrow and bow and took his place. He would shoot with the last group, with other dignitaries.

Being the son of the governor gave him that privilege. If he was to consider it a privilege. The position was really no different than a peasant's, they both had a fair chance to win, or lose.

He breathed a quick prayer, to no one in particular. It really wasn't a prayer though, he thought. Just a wish.

The man had already surveyed his competitors. Some looked hard to beat, others didn't stand a chance. One, he'd notice in particular. The man was very young, hardly a man, probably seventeen by his looks.

His clothes were not those of a typical middle-class citizens, but of a higher class, possibly his father was a rich man from a nearby city. Although he was neatly and richly dressed, he wore a hat, which when one had studied it was a cheap cap, like that of a peasants.

The young man mulled over this a moment as the first shots were fired. At thirty paces, most would hit an easy bulls eye. All but one did.

Three more groups fired, with only two archers eliminated. It was the rich lad's turn.

_He'll hit it, there's no way he'll miss._

The blond man had seen this kid make a perfect shot at fifty paces with three bigwigs laughing at him. This would be a breeze. Gracefully pulling back his string, the lad sighted straight down the arrow and let fly.

_Perfect shot. Not a moment's hesitation. Complete composure. No strain. Perfect._

A competitor worth his time, he contemplated.

Two more groups of archers took their places and placed their arrows directly in the center of the target, all fourteen of them. The last group took their places. Tossing his blond hair out of his eyes, the young man set an arrow to the string, gripped the bow beneath the sharp tip, and drew back the thick string.

"Fire."

The sharp stone tip of the arrow imbedded itself firmly into the center of the target. The next round began.

The target was moved to seventy paces. Only nine competitors remained. The lad was still in, he had shot straight and true each time. As had the tall young man.

He glanced up toward his father and sister. They both had seats of honor, overlooking the green where the shots were being fired. His father showed slight interest, although probably only to be sure his son was still in the contest.

His sister looked beautiful, dressed in a long gown, light green with sparkling white silk sleeves and designs. She also wore a veil, which surprised him. She had only worn a veil twice, once when their mother had died and one other time, he couldn't recall the occasion.

_Ah . . . Mother._

"Fire."

Two out. A tall burly man with a thick accent, who had begun cursing violently, and a lean man with sharp features and dark curly hair which fell past his shoulders. He said nothing, he simply turned toward the crowds and joined them.

_A good sport. I admire him more than the man who will win._

He, and three others, stepped to the firing line. The young fellow was on the far left side, the blond haired man on the far right. Each man put an arrow to the string and aimed.

The signal. Four arrows flew seventy paces, three landing neatly in the center. The loser was a sore one, he nearly had to be dragged off the grounds.

He was one of the bigwigs who had cruelly teased the young kid with a lucky shot. This kid was good though, he thought. Three rounds sped by, leaving behind three competitors.

A well-known archer who had won many contests and seemed to have great confidence in winning, the young lad, and the tall young man. The archers took their places, the lad once again on the far left, the yong man on the far right.

The spectators all leaned over each other to see who would miss and who wouldn't.

"Fire!"

The crowds were just as astonished as the archer. He had been confident, too confident. The lad and the young man had both made the shot. The man looked at their shots, and shook both of their hands.

"I thought I had a good shot. Well, today I've been beat. Good luck to both of you."

He smiled at them both. The targets were moved and the two nervous competitors prepared for the final shot.

The young man glanced over at the young fellow beside him. He looked like he was shaking, but what caught his attention was his face. It looked familiar.

"What's your name, lad?"

"Vreon. Vreon Paleacrita."

"Ready."

The blond haired young man tightened his grip on the bow, corrected his arrow, and pointed it directly at the center.

"FIRE!"

Two feathered arrow soared, both flying straight. The hit at exactly the same time. The crowds gasped. The tall young man couldn't tell who had won from his position.

They both looked like perfect shots. Two men ran out to the targets. They yelled across the green saying, "We can't tell the difference."

A bird could be heard singing high in the sky, a happy song of spring; a silence as the judges weren't sure what to do with this piece of information.

"Bring the targets here," a judge decided.

The others seemed to agree. The targets were brought to them and studied. After several minutes, the judges came to a conclusion.

"The winner..."

Vreon nearly screamed during the few seconds of silence as the announcer slowly took his time. The young man was afraid that if the announcer didn't say something in one more second, he'd knock his block off.

"The winner is, Vreon Paleacrita."

Vreon was astonished, to say the least. The tall young man patted Vreon on the shoulder and said, "Well, let's just say I've only known one person who could beat me. That was my sister, Aetwen."

Aetwen looked at her brother. His large blue eyes glared steadily into hers.

"And I knew that if my brother had won this contest every year since he was old enough, I could easily win. Don't tell father, please Tauiln."

"Go claim your prize, you deserve it."

Taulin smiled, his white teeth shone and he laughed a bit as he considered what she must have gone through. Aetwen discreetly blew him a grateful kiss which he returned. She ran toward the place where their father sat, hot with anger and probably embarrassment.

He motioned to the girl sitting beside him, the false Aetwen. She rose, slowly, majestically and moved to her right, taking a large bow and quiver of arrows from a saluting guard. The bow was covered with gold and silver with the most intricate details carved deeply into its thin surface.

The arrows were made similarly, the sharp points solid gold and the feathers on the opposite end from a rare tropical bird. Aetwen curtsied to 'Vreon' who bowed and took the well-deserved prize from the extended hands.

'Vreon' politely made a slight speech, which was thankfully ignored by the governor who was still steaming about his son's failure. If he had payed any attention, he may have noticed what an odd voice this young lad had. Finishing his speech, the crowds cheered and began clustering about the hero.

He was lifted upon commoners shoulders and paraded about the city, holding his precious bow and arrows. Taulin wished he could follow, but his father solemnly motioned to his son, telling him it was time to leave.

**_Author's note:_** OK, the more reviews i get the longer it is! R&R!


	6. Chapter 5

**Author's note:** _**SORRY about the delay**_! My comp crashed and after that I didn't make time to write! Now the computer is running even better and I can finally burn CDs (the burner's been broken for ages). Still don't have DSL, so internet is very slow, but a little better with all the updates my dad did. OK, here we go!

**Chapter 5**

Sneaking home that night, Aetwen came in long after dark. It probably had been hard for her maid, Haenet, to pretend for so long. Aetwen slid silently down the corridor.

She had come in though an unused part of the large old house. She hadn't wanted to wake anyone and from here one could shout without the residents hearing.

Several windows lined the wall to her left. The moonlight slipped through the glass casting eerie shadows on the wall opposite. _**Creak**_. Aetwen spun around bracing herself.

No one was there.

_Take it easy, Aetwen. It's probably just your imagination or someone up because they couldn't sleep. _

_**Creak.**_

Aetwen heard where the sound was coming from. The stairs at the end of the hallway. The first door she reached was open.

She stepped into the room and pressed her shoulder against the door frame, leaning her head against the strong oak bookshelf behind her. Slowly, she peeked her head out of the room and glanced down the hallway.

A tall shadow glanced off the wall opposite the stairwell. It was descending, stealthily, creeping along with soft steps. Aetwen drew her hand around the dagger in her belt.

Her fingers slipped around the cold metal and tightened, her knuckles whitened.

_**Creak, creak.**_

The figure's foot floated to the bottom without a sound. It turned and steadily crept down the hall, toward the door where the girl calmly waited. Suddenly, the silent padding of feet stopped.

Aetwen heard a slight scratching noise and her eyes widened. The sound was right next to her. The shadow had stopped on the opposite side of the wall.

_It must hear me. What is it?_

Aetwen was breathing hard. A shiver raced up her neck. Fear gripped her thoughts, but did not smother them.

_Run or attack. Run or attack._

The girl leapt around the wall and slashed at her enemy. A gloved hand grabbed her wrist and wrenched the weapon from her grip. The dagger clattered to the floor.

The figure was taller than most men, cloaked in black, and with seemingly no face. Aetwen had no time to note all these details, instead she threw her fist into the blackness in front of her.

She heard a grunt and the figure released its iron hold on her wrist. They stood glaring at each other, neither particularly wanting a fight.

"Step aside," a man's voice hissed.

"No, you must either surrender, or be destroyed."

The figure did not surrender, why should he, a girl stood before him, armed only with a poor dagger, which now lay between them on the marble floor. He bent down and snatched it up.

His hand drew aside his cloak, revealing a silver belt, strapped about his waist. The dagger was carelessly shoved into an open sheath.

The corridor began to ring as the man drew out of his belt an enormous sword. The sword was an estimated three feet long with a blade about three to four inches thick.

The moonlight shone through the window and Aetwen noticed dozens of precious stones stuck deeply in it's handle. The whole sword was also a brilliant yellow. Pure gold.

Aetwen breathed deep. Her hand went to her belt and she grasped the sword she had both in the market. She hoped it proved to be a reliable weapon.

She swung the sword with great force and she felt the vibration as the two weapons collided. He swung aiming lower this time and again, CLASH! Aetwen went through the training in her head, go for the head or for the...

She ducked, narrowly avoiding a deadly blow to her own head. Retaliating quickly, she made a few quick stabs at his upper body. He jumped back, flipped backwards and landed by the stairs.

Aetwen rushed at him, attempting to corner him. Cleverly, he jumped aside and swung at her. Their swords clashed several times as each trying to outwit the other. They began climbing the stairs, the man with the vantage point.

Quickly, Aetwen conjured up a way to gain the high ground. She brought her sword around, aiming for his left hip, he blocked it, but had to move a step to the right. Aetwen's sword flashed and sliced at the man's head.

Ducking and blocking, the man was pushed even more to the right. Aetwen quickly brought her sword as low as she could and swiped at the figure's legs.

The man was shoved against the right wall, received a nick in the legs and before he could recover, Aetwen had stepped past him and spun around. Their swords clashed again and they fought fiercely, one winning, then losing.

The fight was tossed back and forth, the outcome unsure, until Aetwen overestimated her opponents strength and was thrown down. She lay on her back and they both held their swords in a tight lock, Aetwen pushing toward the left.

Aetwen's arm was bleeding steadily as was the man's calf. Sweat ran into the girl's eyes and she blinked to try to stop the burning. Her arms shook as she held the sword and pushed against him with all her strength.

The man was gaining confidence as the swords tilted to the right.

"Do you want to surrender now? Perhaps I will spare your life," the man said flatly.

"I would rather die fighting than be spared surrendering."

"Then you will die."

Their swords touched the right wall and Aetwen's strength nearly gave way. A thought struck her mind and she acted like lightening. She shoved her sword into the wall, pushing herself to the right.

The swords were still locked and her opponent's sword was no longer pointed at her, but at the wooden stair. She jerked her sword out of the lock and the man's weapon struck the wood. Aetwen stood to her feet, and before the man could pull his sword free, she placed the tip of her sword on the man's neck.

"Now," Aetwen breathed quickly, "do you want to surrender? Perhaps I will spare your life."

The man let his hand drop from his sword.

"I would have been ashamed to have been defeated by a woman until now. You won, and I would rather not die."

Aetwen nodded and snatched the man's sword from the wood.

"I can't blame you, and I won't kill you, but I would like to ask you a few questions."

The man nodded and Aetwen remembered that she still hadn't seen this man's face. He wore a black mask with two small eye holes. She told the man to go back down the stairs and turn into the first room, which was a sitting room with some old chairs a table as well as a few other things.

She ordered him to sit in one of the chairs after he had removed his belt, weapons, and cloak. He had still not removed the mask.

"Will you also remove the mask?" Aetwen requested. She was thoroughly exhausted and wanted to sit as well, but instead she stood before the door with both weapons poised ready.

The man complied and when he had removed it, Aetwen nearly dropped both of her weapons.

"Kreait!"

"Aetwen, first I am sorry for what I did and - "

"What are you doing here? Why are you trying to kill me?"

"Listen, I'm not trying to kill you I promise," Kreait raised his hands as in surrender. "I had a job to do and you were supposed to be asleep."

Aetwen pointed his sword at him. "I want a straight answer from you, Kreait. Don't interrupt me. Why were you in our house, sneaking around?"

Kreait hesitated. "Aetwen, I need you to trust me, and please, don't tell anyone that I was here."

"Listen Kreait, you might be my cousin, but you broke into our house and one of us nearly got killed. I'm not making any deals here. You tell me the truth, everything, and you might not get killed."

Kreait sighed. "Ok, but I need you to hear me out, even if you decide to kill me. You might think it's what I deserve, but listen first please."

Aetwen calmed her anger and replied, "I'm listening."

Kreait reached in his pocket. "First I'm a member of Irongate." He handed his young cousin a dirty piece of white cloth. Someone had used black ink to stain a symbol onto one side of it.

The symbol was a large pyramid with a black capstone. Inside the pyramid, there was a book, a coin, and an eye, the eye overlapping both of the others. On the top of the pyramid ran strange letters, but it looked like the word Irongate in another language.

"So what is Irongate?" questioned the girl.

"Irongate is a group of people hired by the dragon riders to keep the peace and too look into government, rather check up on how things are run."

Kreait paused. Aetwen was following and asked, "So, you were here to check out how my father has been running things, correct?"

"Exactly. They thought I was a prime candidate for this city, since I'm your father's nephew. I would have access much easier into... things and places."

"That still doesn't explain why you were in our house or why you tried to kill me?"

Kreait looked at Aetwen. "I can't tell you everything, but," he hesitated. "We believe your father hasn't done everything exactly the way we think he should."

Aetwen studied her cousin. "What exactly?"

"I can't tell you exactly what, but if you had found out who I was... do you follow me?"

Aetwen nodded.

Kreait continued, "I wasn't going to kill you, I honestly was trying my best not even to hurt you, but you put up such a good fight and I had to win, to keep Irongate safe. Please don't hold this against me, I love you and your family very much. I would never want to hurt you."

Aetwen stood there, rather stunned at this new information. She hated the thought that Kreait was spying on her father, but he could be right. After her mother died he had changed.

Her father wasn't the same man he had once been.

"I understand, and I will keep Irongate safe."

His green eyes met her dark ones and he expressed his heartfelt thanks without words. She turned his weapon around and handed it to him. "Thank you."

She nodded and slid her own sword into its sheath.

"You shot well today."

"Were you there?"

"No, but news gets around."

She looked at him, a bit suspicious. He gathered up his cloak, belt, and weapons. After replacing them all, he took back the cloth as well.

"By the way, where did you get that sword?"

Aetwen smiled, "Where else, today in the street. It was a good bargain, so I figured, why not, aye?"

Kreait nodded and grinned. "You and your good bargains. I bet every shop owner sighs when they see you coming. You whittle them into giving you everything at your price."

She giggled. He was right though.

"Do you have a horse? Where are you staying?"

"Yes to the first question, and to the latter, that's confidential."

"Well, cousin, I will be seeing you soon, I hope."

"So do I, and by the way," he walked toward the door and then turned. "Nice get up."

He laughed and she heard the door to the lawn close after him. She smiled and went down the corridor up the stairs, and when she finally made it to her room, she changed quickly and collapsed into her bed.

Author's Note: YAY! Wow, that was a lot of typing. I did most of this right now, whoa, but you readers deserve it! R&R!


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